


Skip The Small Talk

by serephent



Series: Superbat Week 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred and his Ninja Butler skills, Alfred is a National Treasure, Banter, Identity Porn, M/M, SuperBat, Superbat Week 2020, X-ray Vision, does this count as fluff?, not so secret identities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serephent/pseuds/serephent
Summary: It’s not like Clark's looking for dirt. Which, unless there’s a body stashed in the walls of Wayne Manor, isn’t something he’ll uncover with x-ray vision anyway.______Written for Day 2 prompt: X-ray Vision
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Superbat Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850554
Comments: 13
Kudos: 188





	Skip The Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write fluff. Clark didn't get the memo.
> 
>  **Betas:** The wonderful [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt) and [Gement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gement).

**Skip The Small Talk**

Clark sits across the desk from Bruce Wayne, writing shorthand on the notepad that the billionaire had looked quaintly amused to see him get out of his bag. He’s determined to do his best, but there’s this _noise_. Akin to the hum of a server bank, but at the same time, not. And now that Clark's made the mistake of really focusing on it, he can’t seem to tune it out. It’s slowly driving him batty.

“Do you hear something?” 

“No.” Bruce flashes a bright smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Clark returns the smile. “So, you were saying?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. The truth is, I’m really not part of the decisions for the Foundation.” 

After realizing he has no idea what Bruce just said, he decides to take a quick peek around. Normally he'd never invade someone's privacy this way, but he really can’t afford to blow _another_ interview. 

And it’s not like he’s looking for dirt. Which, unless there’s a body stashed in the walls of Wayne Manor, isn’t something he’ll uncover with x-ray vision anyway. Clark only wants to find the source of the sound, to see if he can figure out a way to stop it, so he can focus on the interview.

“Oh. My. God.”

Clark blinks rapidly a few times, as if somehow that will magically change the picture, or make it so he never saw it in the first place. It doesn’t. He looks to Bruce and then back to what is unmistakably the _Batcave_. 

A giggle bubbles up, escaping before he can slap a hand over his mouth. Once he starts laughing, Clark can’t seem to stop. He knows he’s the color of a tomato, so he covers his face with his hands. Not that it helps much, what with him sneaking peeks between his fingers, and muttering, “No. Nope. Not possible."

"Are you diabetic, Kent?” Bruce asks as he gets up from behind the desk. “I think you might be delirious. I'll have Alfred bring some orange juice." 

Clark finally gets his laughter under control at Bruce’s approach, as all the possible ways he could deal with the situation play out in his mind. Some are more gracious than others, and admittedly, his choice is among the worst of them, but Clark can’t pass up what's probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to screw with Batman. So, with a minor abuse of superspeed, he dons the Superman suit and leans back in the chair, sporting what he knows is a self-satisfied smile. “No, Batman, I’m not.” 

The look of shock on Bruce’s face is priceless. After switching back to normal clothing, Clark just watches and waits. 

Bruce steps around the desk, then reaches out without a word and removes Clark’s glasses. Looking at the thick black frames, he shakes his head. “You have got to be fucking kidding me," he growls, stuffing the glasses into Clark’s jacket pocket instead of handing them back. 

"Language,” Alfred scolds as he sets a tray of tea and cookies down on the desk. 

Bruce harrumphs and picks up a cup, before returning to sit behind his desk. 

Clark presses his lips together, trying not to laugh, and instantly decides he likes the elderly english butler. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, Superman,” Alfred replies. “If there is nothing else, Master Bruce?”

“No, thank you, Alfred.”

“Sir.” He retreats from the room without further comment. 

“Wait. How? It was only a few _seconds_ ,” Clark sputters. 

Bruce gives a quiet snort of laughter. “I gave up figuring out how Alfred does it a long time ago.”

Taking the other cup of tea, Clark decides that with mad ninja butler skills like that, there's no way he doesn't know who Bruce is, and if Batman trusts him to keep his secret, that’s good enough for Clark.

“So, Superman is a reporter. From Kansas.” 

“And Batman is a billionaire playboy.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe your disguise is a pair of glasses and bad posture.”

“Hey, it's not like you have room to talk. Yours is pretending to be an oversexed idiot,” Clark retorts around a mouthful of cookie.

"Do you even _need_ to eat?" 

"Yes." 

Bruce’s eyes narrow.

"Okay, you caught me. I'm just saying that to keep you from having any cookies.” Clark rolls his eyes. “Paranoid much?" 

“Seriously?”

"I retract the question," he says. “Momentarily forgot who I was talking to.” 

Without comment, Bruce throws a letter opener at him. It bounces harmlessly off. Picking up the now crumpled letter opener, Clark tosses it on the desk with a huff. "Was that necessary?" 

"No. Just fun." 

"You’re such a bastard." 

“I really am.”

Clark eats the rest of the cookies.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! All comments and kudos are appreciated <3


End file.
